


Midnight

by knightinghoul



Category: Carnaval De Cuentos
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinghoul/pseuds/knightinghoul
Summary: Plagued by nightmares that keep him up all night, Ezequiel Amado lives his day to day life with little to no sleep. Then one night, he stumbles across Rabbit, a flashy underground club doused in neon. Enticed by the promise of a sleepless distraction, Ezequiel is oblivious to the evil that lingers within the walls of Rabbit. Shortly after, the nightmares catch up and Ezequiel is forced to face a terrifying truth about himself.





	1. The Nightmare

When Ezequiel opened his eyes, he saw the sky and the stars. They peered down on him through metal bars which spontaneously begged the question _“Who imprisoned the night?_

It was only until he allowed his vision to adjust that the metal bars became spokes and the rims of the Ferris Wheel came into full view, along with the rest of its structure towering above him with flashing lights. 

As he came to his surroundings, he found himself awkwardly draped across the small bench of a capsule. He couldn't remember how he got there. And naturally, that led to the curiosity of why and when and one hundred other unrelated questions that swarm through one's mind after waking up. Though, a sudden yawn interrupted his thoughts and trailing shortly behind was the groggy aftermath of an unexpected nap. He sat upright and was greeted by a very sore neck; a brazen assurance that he had definitely been out cold for at least a few hours. The hot thick summer air, too warm to cool off the thin layer of sweat clinging to his forehead, was an uncomfortable addition.

And then there was silence.

Apart from the gentle creaks of the capsules suspended above him, the quiet of the night set off a particular alarm in Ezequiel's head. 

"Shit." He muttered. He needed to know the time but after a quick pat down of his jeans in search of his phone, he came up empty. _Must’ve been left back in the trailer_. He vaguely remembered watching TV before leaving for a short walk but that had to have been hours ago; in the evening. Now...what time was it _now?_

His alertness was brief. He could feel his eyelids weighing down like anchors and his body, sluggish and slow, begging for just another second of sleep.

_No. Stay awake, it’s still dark._

He pushed himself up, rubbing a hand over his face, scratching his arms, clenching his fists and wiggling his fingers.

“One, two, three, four.” He recited to himself, exiting the Ferris wheel and walking towards a pale blue trailer home settled on a wide field not too far from the edge of the carnival. To the left he could spot the bumper cars in the shadows, a static photograph of a day's worth of safe yet merciless pile ups. To the right, his favorite game booth _Water Gun Fun_  and the teddy bears that were yet to be claimed.

And just beyond that stood the broad silhouette of the main tent, where all the _magic_ happened.

Aside from the Ferris Wheel and a couple of emergency lights, the carnival made itself comfortable in the dark. As it always did. There was a stillness, not unlike a deep slumber that fell over once the final lights were cut. After three years of traveling with the carnival, Ezequiel grew familiar to the sight and the sound. The feeling of being swallowed by the night. 

“One, two, three, four.” Forwards and then backwards. Backwards and then forward. Slowly and intently, he repeated the set of numbers quietly to himself, as he jogged up the stairs of the trailer and slipped inside, making sure the screen door didn’t creak too loudly.

He didn’t know why saying these numbers worked at rubbing off the drowsiness. They just did. And he’d been saying them for weeks just to keep _it_ away.

All the lights were off except for the slight glow of a TV coming from a room at the end of the short hall. His room. As he entered, he was greeted by the paused screen of a Svengoolie episode he had recorded a few weeks back.

He remembered _now_.

On the bed, atop undisturbed bed sheets and pillows was his phone. He picked it up, relieved to see it read 4:03 AM. There also was a missed called from his brother, Benjamin.

Ezequiel looked out his room to the other end of the hall. To Benjamin’s room. The door was closed and even though Ezequiel knew his brother was home and asleep, he tip toed over and took a peek inside to make sure. He could barely make out the figure underneath the ocean of thick sheets and plump pillows but a leather jacket could be seen under the moonlight, hanging on the edge of the closet door. That was proof enough for him.

He retreated to his room and sat on his bed where he was left alone with the soft buzz of the television and his thoughts. The sun would come out soon and he was already planning a few scattered naps throughout the day, in between his work shift. Amiel would understand. They always did. A moment’s rest was harmless but only in daylight. It wasn’t quite the rejuvenating process his body ached for, but he managed. It was all he _could_ manage.

He reached for the remote and pressed play, a monstrous arachnid on screen resuming its attack on unsuspecting citizens. It was only minutes before exhaustion weighed on his shoulders and pulled on his eyelids again. He jerked and rubbed his face, dragging thin fingers through his dark curls, pulling at their roots.

“One.” He began to recite again. But he stayed at _one_ and he focused real hard on it. On the sound. On it’s meaning.

 

_One._

 

One day _it_ came and took away his sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The cereal in his bowl had turned soggy by the time he realize he was still sitting at the small kitchen table and he had only taken one bite. The transition from night to day had been slow and grueling, like pulling the sun’s teeth just to get the first few rays of light to filter through the blinds on his window. Yet, he could not remember the exact moment he shut off his TV to serve himself a bowl of cheerios.

One moment he was on his bed, the next he was sitting and staring at the white refrigerator. More specifically, at a magnetic frame that held a photograph of him and his brother when they were kids. It was an old photograph, wrinkled and faded at the edges as if it had been held by one too many hands and had been mindlessly tucked into one too many places. Still, the two brothers remained mostly untouched by the years, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, boasting smiles with missing teeth. They were sitting on the steps of what Ezequiel could only assume was once their home.

How strange it was to assume about things like home but there weren't many photographs of them. And photographs were one of the very few things he had left of a childhood he could not remember. 

The entrance door swung open and at least that came with two familiar voices. Ezequiel turned in time to see Benjamin and Amiel walk in through the door filled with laughter, playfully shoving one another in response to an argument they were possibly having but one Ezequiel was too tired to decipher. They both immediately noticed him slumped over his soggy cereal.

Amiel greeted him with raised brows. “Oh, Z! You’re up early.”

 _Early?_   He thought to himself and then realized he must've said it out loud because Benjamin was nodding, pointing at their tawdry red wall clock hanging opposite of him.

**8:32 AM**

How the fuck was it still morning? Ezequiel could swear on every minute of delicious peaceful sleep he’s ever had that he’d been rotting at the table for at least 12 hours. He had the back pain and sour mouth to prove it.

“Did you sleep okay?” He heard Amiel ask. There was a pout forming on their lips and Ezequiel could tell their eyes were already scanning every inch of his face for any signs of distress. It wasn’t unlike them to worry so easily. 

During the Carnival’s business hours, Amiel was his boss. Though first and foremost, as they liked to frequently remind him, they were his friend. But perhaps even then they would still somehow skip over the dark circles under his eyes. Fingers crossed.

“Yep.” He answered and quickly bit back a yawn building at the back of this throat. “All eight hours of beauty sleep.”

Amiel squinted their eyes but said nothing. They rewarded him with a smile instead; the kind that showed the trust they had built over the last three years. 

“Well, if you’re hungry later on, there’s chocolate chip pancakes at the clubhouse.”

The clubhouse referred to Amiel’s trailer, its name bestowed upon it by Benjamin for a reason Ezequiel was too tired to remember.

“Thanks, but I had cereal.” Ezequiel did his very best to crack a smile without triggering another yawn.

Amiel grabbed a set of keys resting on top of the fridge. They were already heading back out when they replied, “One bite is not breakfast, Z.”

A few weeks ago, Ezequiel would've shot back with something witty. He was good at that kind of thing. Sarcasm and wit? His specialties. But that morning he had nothing. He let Amiel win. 

“They’re right, you know,” Benjamin leaned over to grimace at the bowl. “What was that…cheerios?”

“Depress O’s”

Benjamin laughed and lightly smacked Ezequiel on the shoulder. “Why’d you let them get like that?”

Ezequiel shrugged. “I spaced out, I guess.”

He watched as Benjamin’s smile slowly faded. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

Ezequiel could smell his cologne. He always carried a cloud of cologne with him, but it was surprisingly never overwhelming. Just enough to be present. To turn heads and rightfully so.

Although they were twins, Ezequiel always thought he looked nothing like his brother. Benjamin didn’t have dark circles under his eyes. They weren’t droopy with little to no sleep. On the contrary, they were big and bright and youthful. Hell, they were only 20 years old but Benjamin still shined like a Homecoming King accepting his crown underneath the spotlight. His hair wasn’t an unwashed tangled mess. It was combed and slicked back and when it wasn’t, it was soft curls that hugged his forehead and dove into his eyes. Of course, even after all that no one could deny they were twins. But maybe it wasn’t about the hair or the eyes or anything about the way they looked. Maybe there was just something fundamentally different about each other. 

“Was it the nightmare again?”

Ezequiel noticed he was staring at the photograph again. At a younger version of himself smiling back at him, squinting under the bright sun. He wondered if that little shit slept peacefully every night.

The nightmare.

There was no emphasis on “ _the nightmare_ ” because to Benjamin, that’s all it was. A bad dream. Something you woke up from and shook off with a cool splash of water to the face. But to his knowledge this had only happened twice. A bad dream from which Ezequiel woke up screaming and thrashing until Benjamin got a good grip on him and brought him back to reality.

But the undisclosed reality was, this wasn’t a rare occurrence. This had been happening for months. And each time it came back stronger.

A bad dream? Ezequiel could handle a bad dream; he could handle a hundred. But _this? This_ was different.

One day it came, disguised as a nightmare and it never left. It found a home in the back of his head, in the pit of his stomach, underneath his nails. There were very few days where it stayed dormant. But it would always advise when it would appear. During the day, it gnawed just below his flesh, where he couldn’t reach, couldn’t scratch. It burned behind his eyelids, it burned his hands. It was taunting him. That’s when he knew the minute he laid down to sleep, he would be pulled under. Into the dark. Into the suffocating dark. So, he stayed awake, for as long as he could.

He didn’t know why this was happening. And for that reason, he kept it to himself. He knew laying it out for all to see would just bring more questions; especially from Benjamin. And between the two, there were already far too many questions left unanswered.

“Z?” Benjamin tried a final time. He was worried, now. A pout, similar to that of Amiel’s, forming on his lips.

“No, it’s not the nightmare.” Ezequiel answered flatly. He pulled himself up and walked over to empty his bowl in the sink. “Just stayed up late, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

Benjamin didn’t sound convinced but for whatever reason, he changed the subject anyways.

“Amiel said we’re headed to Chicago next. Maybe we can visit Tía Lola while we’re there?”

Ezequiel could feel every part of his body tense up.

There were parts of his life he could not remember; gaps in memories, blurry faces and wrinkled photographs with unfamiliar smiles. And then there were parts of his life he did not **_want_** to remember. Chicago was one of them. 

He felt the half-digested cheerios in his throat.

Benjamin continued, naive to his brother's change in composure. “It’s been like…what? 6? 7 months? 8 months?”

“A year.” Ezequiel exhaled slowly, months of irregular sleep crashing down on him like waves. He thought he would collapse.

“Oh shit, a whole year? We definitely gotta go see her. I wonder if she’ll make us pambazos. Oh my god, remember her pambazos?”

Benjamin’s voiced trailed off and distorted like he had suddenly been plunged underwater. Nothing but muffled sounds traveled into Ezequiel’s ears. Suddenly, he could feel it crawling underneath his skin. Anxiety bubbling at the pit of his stomach.

Would it come for him tonight?

 

* * *

 

El Carnaval de Cuentos—or ECDC as it had come to be known as—was fairly small and not unlike any other local carnival that situated themselves on grassy fields for school events or town festivals. But its size did not hinder its attraction by any means. On the contrary, over the years ECDC had obtained a considerably large and faithful audience across America. But it wasn't for its rides or game booths and surprisingly not even for the deliciously sweet funnel cakes which created lines at the concession stand that were on the brink of challenging Disney World. 

No, the main attraction wore red and white stripes and took it's place at the center of the carnival: the big tent.

No matter what state they landed in, Amiel knew how to sell out their show. Every seat was filled; the air thick with the scent of buttery popcorn. Children wiggled in their seats, red at the cheeks from laughter, eyes wide with excitement. Parents and adults weren’t too far off in expression themselves. And despite a fear large of crowds, Amiel always delivered a show full of wonder.

Ezequiel sat at the far back, near the tent’s entrance but even from there, Amiel radiated pure charisma. At every show they wore a red tailcoat with gold accents. They kept their smiles bright, their russet brown skin carrying the glow of a sunset underneath the spotlight.  They held the crowd at their fingertips, orchestrating a symphony of _ooh's_ and _ah's_  but what the audience didn’t know was that every snap of their finger, every flick of their wrist wasn’t a cue for smoke and mirrors.

It was an act of wielding _real_ magic.

Amiel stood at the center of the ring, beaming at the audience as they scooted to the edge of their seats, shooting curious gazes at the brightly colored paper mache birds arranged in a large circle. As they walked over to the first bird in line, a beautiful blue feathered friend with a lavender tail, they claimed one by one they would come to life by a simple tap on the head. The audience whispered amongst themselves, doubting, theorizing how this trick could be pulled off. 

Ezequiel could feel himself smiling. 

It had been three years since he'd witness magic for the first time yet even now, he still sat in wonder, almost as naively as the crowd, entranced by the scene before him. Just as Amiel declared, one by one the vibrant paper mache birds spread their wings and took off, soaring high above the ring in a swirling motion. The tent was filled with loud gasps followed by laughter and cheers. He watched intently as Amiel took a bow in the middle of the ring and disappeared only to reappear among the crowd, calling a bird to their shoulder so the kids could marvel and pet it.

A few tricks later and the show was over as everyone went home with much to talk about, adrenaline still in their veins.

Ezequiel could see the relief on Amiel’s face as the last of crowd walked out the gates. They would always take a deep breath, giving their white gloves a good squeeze before folding them neatly and placing them in the breast pocket of their tailcoat.

Amiel was a Ringleader, one of many magicians that traveled across the globe with their magical acts. When Ezequiel first arrived to ECDC, he had many questions and throughout the years, he learned very little but enough to understand two things. One: magic was very real. And two: Amiel was most certainly worthy of wielding it.

But tonight, he had other things on his mind.

“Why Chicago?”

“It’s not Chicago, _not technically_ , anyways.”

The suburbs. So, it was the suburbs, miles away from the city but apparently not enough to keep Benjamin from wanting to pay Tía Lola a visit.

“Why now?” Ezequiel pressed. Amiel noticed the change of tone in his voice. There was a pause, as if they debated whether to confront him about his strange reluctance. But they quickly decided against it.

“Lola wants to see you guys.” They answered, simply. Then added, “Plus we haven’t been to Illinois in a long time. Might be good for business.”

Ezequiel fell silent. Before Amiel could analyze his look, one of the staff members approached them to discuss the broken ride that had been shut down for the past month. Ezequiel felt the prickly sensation spreading down his arms to his fingertips. He tried not to focus on the feeling. Or the heaviness in his chest and in every part of his body. He was lead, sinking into the ground.

“Z?”

He looked up at Amiel. He immediately recognized that smile. The same smile they had given him earlier and the same one they had given him the first night he arrived at the carnival with Benjamin.

Sometimes that was a night Ezequiel did not want to remember. Because it reminded him of Chicago and the life he left behind. Or _whatever_ he had left behind. It was hard to call something a life when there wasn't a childhood to look back on. When it felt like you were never born and instead, just sort of blurred into existence at the age of ten in a small apartment with Tía Lola. 

“You can always talk to me.” They said, reaching out to hold his hand and give it a warm squeeze. Ezequiel squeezed back.

“I’m fine.” He lied effortlessly.

He wanted to ask if magic could erase what he saw when he closed his eyes.

He didn’t sleep that night. Nor the next night, or the one after that. He slept throughout the day, in strange secluded places so that no one could find him and ask him questions. The backstage of the big tent was a good spot. Though a bit dusty, he managed to get an hour here and there. But a couple of hours in the span of week was not enough. One day, he almost nodded off while operating a ride. He stayed away from machinery afterwards; instead, asking Amiel for the rest of the day off. He knew the interrogation that would follow so he faked a flu.

Luckily, Benjamin had a date so, he stayed away from Ezequiel as well but not before making sure he had everything he needed. It was about three in the afternoon when Benjamin finally left Ezequiel alone in his room with medicine, tea and piping hot soup.

It being summer meant Ezequiel had a good chunk of hours before the sun set. His plan was to get as much sleep as he could and as long as he woke up before then, he was fine.

He laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. They were leaving for Chicago that night.

Leave was a loose term. Maybe not the correct term at all. The carnival never _left_ to places. It simply appeared in an instant. One moment he’d be in Arizona and in the next, he’d be in Chicago. Years ago, he’d call it one of magic’s perks. Tonight, he wished they could just travel like a normal carnival. Maybe the open roads would do him some good.

He yawned and remembered he was on a schedule. He could not deny feeling a bit nervous but he assured himself _it_ never showed up during the day. If he could nap for an hour or two, four or five it couldn’t possibly be a problem. Still, he decided to play it safe and set his alarm up for 7:00 PM. That set him a whole hour before the sun went down entirely.

Then, he took a deep breath and allowed sleep to take over.

 

* * *

 

 

He slept for too long. For far too long. When he woke up, his heart leapt to his throat. The alarm clock on his drawer remained silent but it’s large glaring red numbers pierced the dark and kept him still.

**11:15 PM**

Ezequiel felt his mouth go dry.

_It’s okay. **It’s okay.** Just stay awake. All you have to do is stay awake. _

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel his hands, his legs, he couldn’t feel any part of his body. The only thing he felt was the heavy weight of his eyelids. So **heavy**. He fought hard to keep them open, staring at the clock. Thinking in his head “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR.”

He took in panicked breaths.

_Stay awake._

**_Awake._ **

_ONE TWO THREE **FOUR**._

_FOUR TWO ONE THREE_

_THREE AWAKE FOUR AWAKE…._

His eyes were closing, tears forming at their corners, sliding down his temples. He couldn't keep them open any longer. It felt like someone was pulling them down. Someone, _something_.

And then came the darkness. And with it, a silence. A familiar, sinister silence.

Ezequiel sat on a cold surface; knees tightly pressed against his chest. His body was trembling. He could only hear his shaky breaths. His fingers were pressed tightly around his arms, nails digging into skin. Eyes forward, into the pitch black. There was no ending, and no beginning.

But he was not afraid the dark or the nothingness. It was what came after.

A small red orb of light, off in the distance. It grew slowly and however hard Ezequiel tried to look away, he could not. He was transfixed by the glaring red.

Then, the ringing came. A high pitch ringing, barely detectable but it was there, growing in his ears, sinking into his bones, pinching every nerve in his body. The light grew bigger and Ezequiel knew he was moving towards it. Floating, unstoppable, with nothing to grab onto. Nothing to protest. How bad he wanted to close his eyes. But he knew it was coming.

The fire.

And the screams.

In an instant, there were flames, all around him, licking at his exposed skin. Unable to move, he felt it scorch his limbs. He felt it sink into his pores and burn him from the inside. The ringing in his ears became screams of torture and pain. Screaming for him. Begging for help.

“EZEQUIEL!” They screamed.

Over and over and over. Until he forced his own screams out. Begging them to stop.

“Stop it! STOP IT! **I SAID STOP IT**!”

He gasped, shooting up from his bed and scrambling back until he hit his headboard. His breaths were heavy, his body drenched in sweat. He looked over at the clock in panic.

**12:09 AM**

His first instinct was to bring his knees against his chest in attempt to control the trembling in his body. His second instinct was to run to Benjamin’s room. He left his bed and rushed to his brother’s door only to stop halfway down the hall.

“No.” He muttered under his breath, chest still heaving. “You’re okay. Stop. You’re _okay_.”

He tangled his hands in his curls, breathing slowly. He walked back to his room and grabbed a towel for a quick shower. When he got out, the trailer was silent. He debated turning on his TV to watch a movie, get his mind off the nightmare but it felt suffocating in his room. The trailer itself felt too small and cramped. He grabbed a jacket and walked outside into the summer air. The carnival was just as still as everything else. 

The first thing he noticed was the change in location. They were on a large, grassy field. Beyond the Carnival gates, he could spot the quiet neighborhood hidden behind the trees. They were in Chicago. Or as Benjamin would correct him, the Chicagoland area.

Without so much as a second thought, Ezequiel went back in for some change. If they were finally here, he needed to see Lola. After all, she wanted to see him too.

The long walk to the CTA bus stop served him good. He was able to calm his nerves and push the images of his nightmare to the back of his mind. It was damned luck that the Carnival stationed itself in the suburbs of Skokie. He was familiar with the area and knew the Central bus ran late. After 20 minutes or so, he got on and sat in the far back, isolating himself in the corner. Not that he needed to. He only shared the bus with the driver and a man who appeared to be passed out at the front.

As the bus rumbled down the streets, Ezequiel could feel his stomach sink. He quickly regretted wanting to see Lola. In fact, he knew he didn’t want to.

He watched the buildings pass by; familiar streets and neighborhoods. He got off at the train station and headed closer to downtown. But the closer he got, the more awful he felt. He was two stops away from his destination when he decided to back out. It was a weekend night, which meant the streets were still bustling. He got off with the intent of only switching trains to head back to the Carnival but he paused for a moment to look around. He noticed how familiar the area looked. Under the night sky, the streets carried a lively atmosphere, full of people who were just starting their adventures. It was bar after club after bar after club. And nestled in between were bookstores and cafes and boutiques that reigned during the day. Ezequiel knew exactly where he was. He remembered how often he came there during his high school days.

The only days that ever felt real.

He walked the streets, taking in every recognizable sight and sound. Breathing in a mix of cigarette smoke and tacos.

He told himself he never wanted to come back. But the pang in his heart told him otherwise. Sooner or later, he’d have to admit that a part of him would always stay here. His thoughts drifted back to Lola and a wave of sadness came over him.

The truth was, he missed her. 

He missed her jokes, her tamales and surprisingly, even her lectures. But the last time he saw her they had an argument, one that he didn't fix and one that broke both their hearts. He was angry and missing home. If he could even call it that. But hell, he wasn't sure what to call anything in his existence. Nothing ever lasted. There was no consistency, no solid timeline; everything around him had always been a giant puzzle with all the wrong pieces. But Chicago was the closest thing to home and Lola made them leave. Because of that night. The night he graduated from high school. A night he could barely fucking remember now. 

Nothing lasted.

“Hey you!” Someone shouted, along with something else Ezequiel didn’t catch. He was pulled back to reality, the buzz of the city ringing in his ears. He turned around to spot a group of people huddling around what looked like an entrance to a club.

“Huh?” Ezequiel replied.

A girl with blonde hair—the one he assumed had called out to him—shot him a wide grin. “Your jacket,” she said, taking a long drag of her cigarette. “I said I like it.”

Ezequiel awkwardly glanced down at his black track jacket, seeing nothing special about it. “Uh, thanks.”

He turned to leave.

“Wanna come drink?” She continued. The rest of the group talked loudly amongst themselves, their laughter and slurred voices convincing Ezequiel they were well into a few bottles at least. The girl’s stare didn’t budge. She took another drag of her cigarette, red lips stretching back into a grin. The breeze flicked some ash onto her tank top.

“I’m not 21.” Ezequiel responded, without hesitation. Not as an excuse to reject her offer but simply because it was the truth. He was still a month away from turning 21.

A few of the girl’s friends laughed at his response.

“You can be 21 tonight, bud.” One of the guys pitched in. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. At night.

Ezequiel wasn’t so thrilled about the invitation.

“I’m good, thanks.”

The group booed.

“Aw come on! It’s opening night!”

“Yeah. That means free drinks!”

Ezequiel couldn’t help but smile at the oddness of the situation. Certainly, a group of young adults—most likely college kids—had better things to do than to recruit strangers to come and party with them. They did seem genuinely nice for college drunks though, he had to give them that.

“But in all seriousness,” came a voice that immediately demanded Ezequiel’s attention. It wasn’t slurred and loud like the rest. It was steady and warm. Ezequiel scanned their faces until he fell upon one. He was tall, with black curls styled and parted neatly to the side. He had soft dark eyes and a gentle smile that made Ezequiel wonder how he had initially skipped over him.

“You don’t have to come.” He said. “It’s only if you want to.”

“Why wouldn’t he want to?” said Sunglasses. “It’s free drinks!”

The group roared with laughter and cheers, hyping each other up as they began a conga line back into the club. The only one who stayed behind for a moment was _**him**_. And everything about that moment felt inviting. He looked up at the neon blue sign that read _RABBIT_. They must’ve been telling the truth about it’s opening; Ezequiel never of it. He could practically feel the bass of the music vibrating through the soles of his shoes. When he looked back, the guy had dropped his stare and was walking inside.

It had been a long night and as far as Ezequiel could tell, there were two options. Option one was to go back the carnival and stare at the ceiling until dawn, fighting sleep, keeping _it_ away.

And option two was—

“Hey!” He called out.

The guy stopped in his tracks and something about the way he looked gave Ezequiel his answer.

“So can you get me in or what?” Ezequiel grinned.


	2. Ophion

Ezequiel found himself sinking low into the white leather cushions of an oddly shaped sectional. It stretched along the wall, snaking around circular metal tables, each decorated with glowing tubes that Ezequiel could only describe as modern lava lamps. Definitely his style.

He was wedged between strangers he had only known for half an hour; their drunken laughter drowned out by the deep bass of the music seeping into every crevice of the club even in the corner they were tucked into.

Rabbit itself was an oddly shaped club. The lighting was unsurprisingly dim in their corner. Only a few circle pendant lights lined the ceiling, floating just above each table. The dance floor felt miles away though in appealing contrast, it was a glowing paradise with a sea of bodies clashing harmoniously to the beat of the music. He could still feel the vibrations traveling up from the soles of his shoes but now through his arms as well, rattling against his ribcage.

At first glance, Rabbit looked like a theater. Or at the very least, it had the skeletal structure of an auditorium, with the domed ceiling and the levels of floors that curved around to enclose the dance floor and the stage in front of it. Yet the more Ezequiel looked around, the stranger its layout turned out to be. There were sections of the club surrounding the main room, one of them being the dark lounge in which they sat. The bar was on the opposite side of them, its uncanny design faintly reminding him of a church alter. Everything was bathed in a glowing blue hue courtesy of the neon lights. But even then, they all entertained themselves in the dark.

Ezequiel could barely move. Barely think. He was pressed against warm skin, head filled with slurred voices and flirtatious laughs. And god, was it a _good_ feeling.

“Your jacket is sooo comfy. I love it!” said the pretty blonde girl, the one who had complimented his track jacket outside of the club and was now wearing it. Ezequiel couldn’t remember how it had been passed down to her. He then figured it must’ve been more than half an hour since they entered Rabbit.

"It loves you too.” He said.

She blew him a kiss and giggled, falling into the lap of another girl. He still didn’t know their names. No one introduced themselves and he wasn’t in the mood to ask. They paid for his drinks, offered him a good time and he decided that was all he needed. A change in scenery and a bit of fun, _hell_ ,  who knew? They cracked another joke and went wild. Ezequiel sunk deeper into the couch, taking a deep breath; feeling the remnants of the nightmare crumble and fade. Comfort was the first thing that came to mind. Genuine comfort, even as he appeared to be crammed in between a level of noise equivalent to a football crowd when their team scored. Cheers here, shouts there. Spilled drinks everywhere. But the energy was good, and it was different. It was stimulating. He almost had to punch himself for never doing this before. Granted, clubbing was never his scene but sitting here now, he couldn't figure out why. It was the perfect distraction. 

He studied their expressions and their movements. The way they all clicked and blended so well with one another. He wondered if they did this often and why. Was it just to have fun? Was it to distract themselves and if so, from what? He laughed to himself. There he was, uninterested in their names but curious as to whether Sunglasses also had nightmares he was running away from.

Ezequiel’s gaze eventually landed on the man who sat across from him and the pride of drunk lions. He was laying down on the lone cabriole sofa easily staying in tune with the conversations being carried. He laughed along with the jokes and added his own string of notes to their chaotic symphony.

Still, aside from the distance between the two pieces of furniture, something kept him apart from the group. Ezequiel quickly convinced himself it was only because he found him attractive. Physically, sure. He had soft eyes and a strong jaw. He had a couple of moles sprinkled on his cheeks which Ezequiel found adorable and a smile that made him want to smile too. But he also had this indescribable _thing_ about him.

As if he’d been describing his good looks out loud, the man pulled apart from the conversation and met his gaze, softening his grin to a smile. Ezequiel lit up from the sudden attention and returned the gesture.

 _Who are you? Why are you here?_ He wanted to ask, over the group chanting along to the music and their glasses clinking with one another.

“Come on, lets go dance! Why are we still here?”

“True, I fucking love this song, let’s go!”

The group stumbled to their feet, never once ceasing the laughter and shouts and made their way towards the dance floor. Ezequiel was peeled from the couch as well though he couldn’t tell by who. One minute he was locking arms with someone, the next with another. He lost sight of the man for a while. In fact, as they pushed through the crowd he lost everyone one by one. He found himself in the center, bobbing along to the music, easing himself in. Not once did he think about how late it must've been. For all he knew, the sun could've been minutes from rising above the horizon. But not underneath the starry domed ceiling. He could swear they were stars floating just above his head.

_Amiel would be worried and so would Ben if they found an empty bed._

“Amiel and Ben are asleep," He quietly assured himself, closing his eyes and letting the music take over. The floor was too packed to dance alone. It wasn't long before he felt someone press up behind him. He didn't mind. Nor did the person in front of him. The beat kicked up and Ezequiel felt his adrenaline spike. Energy he hadn’t felt in weeks. And it felt good. It felt so good. The bodies pressed closer and he let himself go. There was enough alcohol in his system to produce a sweet buzz. He found himself wrapping his arms around necks and waists. At times, even leaning in close to unknown faces, happily shouting along to songs he knew. He moved willingly wherever he was pulled, allowing the hands tugging at his shirt and his hips to take him where they pleased.

When he felt a hand wrap around his wrist, he turned around and was met with the dark-haired man. He felt a huge grin spread across his face.

“I thought I lost you.” Ezequiel shouted over the music. He moved in close, noticing the thin layer of sweat glistening on the man’s skin. His hair was just slightly disheveled, falling over his dark brown eyes.

“I’m glad I found you.” He replied, that awfully attractive smile in place. Ezequiel didn’t much care for words at that point. A new song came on, one that he loved, and all he wanted to do was dance. So, he did.

* * *

 

His name was Ophion, a name he’d never come across, yet it rolled so naturally off his tongue. It was a beautiful name and very fitting for the man that carried it.

Ophion danced with him for what felt like hours. They sang until their lungs were sore and their bodies were aching for some rest. It was then that Ezequiel checked the time and decided he needed to head back. Ophion offered to walk him home and when Ezequiel mentioned how far the walk would be, Ophion offered to pay for the uber though that was gently rejected. Ezequiel loved the summer night air and he was fine on public transportation. Ophion changed his offer, instead asking if he could accompany him, just to make sure he made it safely back home. The agreement was quickly made, Ezequiel taking comfort in knowing it would mean he’d spend a little more time with him.

They first had to stop by a Dunkin’ Donuts because Ezequiel was super hungry and they couldn’t walk a single block without him loudly complaining about it. After he got his grilled cheese sandwich, he wolfed it down in three clean bites; a feat that had Ophion watching in wonder as he sipped on his large iced coffee.

“Did you at least enjoy it?” He chuckled, nudging Ezequiel to offer him some of his drink. Ezequiel almost killed that too but Ophion quickly pulled it away before he could.

“Probably,” Ezequiel shrugged, patting his chest to burp. “I don’t know, it happened so fast.”

They shared a laugh and got on the train, heading back to the carnival. It was empty for the most part, allowing them to sit wherever they pleased but Ezequiel was still buzzing with adrenaline so he couldn’t exactly stick with one seat. He walked around, occasionally peering out the window to watch the old neighborhoods he used to hang out by. Chicago was as beautiful as the day he left it. And the trains still smelled like piss and vomit. 

“May I ask you something?” Ophion broke the comfortable silence.

“Sure.” Ezequiel replied, keeping his eyes on the buildings.

“Where were you headed?”

Ezequiel finally turned to look at him. Ophion was resting on a seat near the door, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one casually crossed over the other.

“Hm?”

“Well, we sort of interrupted your night, didn’t we?” Ophion’s lips formed an apologetic smile around his straw.

“Oh,” Ezequiel waved him off. “No I was just…taking a walk.”

Ophion raised his brows. “That’s a pretty long walk.”

Ezequiel chuckled, peeling himself off the window and walking over to sit across the man. He dug his hands into his jacket, which now carried the scent of a fruity perfume, courtesy of the pretty blonde girl. He should’ve asked her what it was.

“Actually, I was going to see someone. But I’m glad I didn’t. So…thanks for the invitation.”

“Bad time prevented?”

Ezequiel pondered, “I’m not sure. But I don’t think tonight would’ve been a good night to find out.”

Ophion simply nodded and took another sip of his coffee.

“What about your friends? You just up and ditched them. That’s cold.” Ezequiel grinned.

Ophion rolled his eyes. “Trust me, they’ll be fine.”

They spent the rest of the ride back in their comfortable silence. Ezequiel ended up stealing the last of Ophion’s coffee and the two watched the city lights blur past them.

* * *

   
When they reached their stop, they realized the bus was no longer in service. Luckily, neither of them minded the walk as it allowed the night breeze to cool them down. Along the way, they ended up on the topic of horror movies, an interest they both shared and which made Ezequiel a rambling mess. He wasn't one to make friends so easily. Not that couldn't, he just didn't want to. But everything about Ophion felt oddly comfortable. As if they had been friends for years. Their conversations came naturally and flowed smoothly. It was definitely odd. But Ezequiel wasn't complaining.  

Once they reached the final block, Ophion stopped to gaze at the Carnival stationed in the middle of a big open field. “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” he said.

“About living at a carnival? Why would I, it’s so common.” Ezequiel blinked at him, innocently.

Ophion smirked. “You’re something, Ezequiel.”

Ezequiel nodded with a cheeky grin. “A _terrible_ something.”

“Do you travel?”

“ _A lot_.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Why?” Ezequiel asked. 

“I’d like to see you again.”

What was left of Ezequiel’s buzz was now fading at the tip of his tongue and his fingers. But he still had quite a lot of that energy in his system. He didn’t want to leave, not just yet. He wanted to take Ophion by the hand and run back to Rabbit to dance the rest of the night away. He wanted to feel the music vibrating within his rib cage. He wanted to keep this energy.

“Are you going back to Rabbit any time soon?” Ezequiel asked.

Ophion nodded.

“When?”

“Whenever you decide to go,” Ophion replied, coolly.

“Oh, fuck off.” Ezequiel beamed, playfully shoving Ophion by the shoulder. “But points for the smooth delivery.”

Ophion accepted the compliment with the slight bow of his head. There was a smug smile tugging at his lips and Ezequiel was not one to lie to himself; he wanted to continue seeing that smile.

“Tomorrow night.” He added.

Ophion had absolutely no problem with that.

* * *

 

Ezequiel woke up on the edge of his bed just as he was slipping off. It was too late to roll back so he left himself fall and land with a thud. He groaned, accepting the pain and taking a hold of his blanket to roll himself up into a burrito. He was tired. But for once in a long time, it was a good kind of tired. One that told him he had slept a decent amount of hours and there was zero fear and all the motivation to continue to his nap fest.

Though the minute he looked at his clock, he regretted it.

2:15 PM

_Shit._

Amiel and Benjamin were bound to burst through the door any second to check up on him; both to make sure he hadn’t somehow died throughout the night. After much debate he unrolled himself and got up to start his day. He noticed the half-eaten soup left on his drawer and quickly made a mental note to throw it out before Benjamin saw it.

To his surprise, neither Benjamin nor Amiel came into his room while he took a shower and put on some fresh clothes. He stepped outside and found that the carnival had already attracted a good amount of people. There was a big line at the hot dog stand which made him a bit grumpy. Of course there’d be a line, right when he was craving one. He decided to jog over to Amiel’s trailer to scour for a snack and was delighted to find chocolate chip waffles. He scarfed down a couple and took an apple to go.

An hour had passed before he finally saw Benjamin walking towards the trailer with a cone of cotton candy. Ezequiel strode over to him.

“Pendejo, ni te fijas si estoy vivo o no.” He scolded, giving his brother a light smack on the arm. Benjamin turned around as he stuffed his face with the spun sugar.

“Hey! I did check up on you. You were snoring.” Ben replied with a pout.

“I was kidding, Jamjam.” Ezequiel rolled his eyes, stealing some of the pink treat and savoring how quickly it melted in his mouth. “Where’s Amiel?”

“Getting ready for the show.”

Ezequiel made a face. “This early?”

Benjamin nodded. “They go on in…” He checked his phone. “10 minutes.”

“Why so early?”

Ben erupted into a toothy smile. “We’re going to visit Tía Lola later. Dude, I’m stoked. You’re coming with right?”

Ezequiel felt that familiar wave of dread wash over him. Just the thought alone was enough to bubble up the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He hated it, especially since for once he woke up in a good solid mood. 

“Uh…” He started, trying to think of an excuse. He quickly remembered Ophion and Rabbit and the promise to meet up later that night. Granted it wasn’t until _later later_ that night, but… damn it, he couldn’t use that anyways. He was supposed to be sick in bed last night.

_Oh, lightbulb._

“Actually, I’m still not feeling good.” Ezequiel liked to think he lied like an expert though deep down he knew his brother was just downright gullible. And though he usually only lied to Benjamin about trivial shit when he felt like being a cheeky bastard, he did feel guilty with this lie. He knew how much Lola meant to him. To the both of them. But being truthful now would mean opening a door he wouldn’t be able to shut close. And he just wasn’t ready to dive into that.

“Do you want to see a doctor?”

Ezequiel chuckled. He took a good look at Benjamin. His hair was neatly styled into a pompadour. He was donning that favorite black leather jacket of his, even underneath the sweltering sun. Part of a rose peeked under the collar of his white t-shirt just to the side of his neck and Ezequiel fondly remembered how much of a whiny brat he had been when he first got it tattooed, along with the rest of his hidden sleeve. His brother looked like a tough asshole and at times he was but all Ezequiel could see at that moment was a big crybaby; soft and gentle. He grew alerted when he noticed it was due to the slight puffiness of his eyes which only appeared after Ben cried, didn't sleep or both. He then remembered he had a date last night.

“I’m fine, Jamjam.” He said and took a moment to choose his next words carefully. “Have fun yesterday?”

Ben visibly went tense. Ezequiel took note of how hard he tried to play it off coolly.

“Totally,” Ben nodded. “Ten ten, would not do it again.” He stuffed his face with a huge chunk of cotton candy and reverted the subject back to Lola. “Maybe Lola can give you a remedy for your flu. You know she’s always got some good shit.”

“NyQuil is fine.” Ezequiel protested. He knew the kind of people his brother went on dates with. He also knew when his brother was hiding something. “Ten ten but would not do it again?”

Ezequiel wanted to dodge Lola.

“Lola’s tea is better than NyQuil. And I said I had fun.”

Benjamin wanted to dodge the date.

They went silent for a moment. Ezequiel kept his eyes on Benjamin and Benjamin hyper focused on picking apart the cotton candy.

“I’m staying tonight.” Ezequiel finally said.

“Cool, hope you feel better then.” Benjamin replied. He glanced at his twin and flashed him a tight lipped smile before walking off at a speed that told Ezequiel he did not want to be followed. So, Ezequiel stayed behind to give him his space.

He was left a little irritated, but he knew he had no right to feel that way. There were things he did not want Benjamin to know so it was only fair that Benjamin did too. Although deep down, he knew this was just thickening the barrier between them. Truth be told, that scared him. Benjamin was the only constant in his life. When they could barely remember their parents, their childhoods, and the accident that took it all away they found comfort in knowing they had always had each other. They were inseparable. Well, _were._ Until the barrier formed on that goddamn night. 

Sometimes Ezequiel wondered if what he left behind in Chicago were the pieces that once allowed him and Benjamin to fit so perfectly. 

* * *

 

Amiel did a quick check up on Ezequiel before they and Benjamin left to see Lola. They insisted on taking Ezequiel to the doctor if he did not feel better in the morning, to which he easily agreed to. He didn’t have to fake sick the next day. He could simply tell them he felt fine later on and went for a stroll in the city. After that, going out would be a breeze.

When they left, he spent the rest of the evening watching his favorite horror films and munching on the snacks Amiel left for him. It wasn’t until around 10 pm when he got a text from an unknown phone number.

_Rabbit in an hour-ish? First round’s on me._

Rabbit was enough to let him know the text was from Ophion. Ezequiel could feel himself grinning. He’d almost forgotten they exchanged numbers last night. He took his time to add “Ophie” to his contacts. He then replied,

 _Rabbit in 2ish hours. watching jason slice and dice some teens._  
_and did you say all rounds on u? my hero._

He looked up at the screen just in time for some slasher action. Good stuff but Freddy still took the cake. His phone buzzed again.

_Don’t push your luck._

Ezequiel could tell Ophion was smiling when he texted that.

* * *

   
Rabbit was just as alive as it had been the night before. Crowds gathered on the dance floor as well as the bar and the lounge areas and even on the floors above. It was booming, exploding with energy and Ezequiel was ecstatic to be back. This time, Ophion was alone and though Ezequiel did kind of miss blonde girl and sunglasses, he didn’t much care for them after the first hour of dancing. It was different. But a good kind of different. The night before he let himself go, closing his eyes and getting lost in the music. Tonight, he was focused on the crowd, watching their movements, taking in the scene before him. He was focused on Ophion and the stupid funny things he leaned in to say in the middle of songs. Ezequiel couldn’t tell if his abs hurt from laughing or from dancing. It didn’t matter. He loved this feeling. This old feeling that suddenly felt so new.

The nightmare felt so far away, so distant and Ezequiel was so confident that it would no longer hurt him. Not here, underneath this starry roof while he wrapped his arms around Ophion and laughed like he had never laughed before. He could do this forever. And maybe he would. 

When their bodies ached something beautiful, they retreated to the bar to drink some water. Ezequiel hopped on one of the stools, draping himself over the counter and letting out an exaggerated groan, already feeling how sore he’d be in the morning. The music in the background had changed tempo to something slower, more sensual.

Ophion slid a tall glass of water towards Ezequiel and patted his back.

“Drink up.”

“It’s not vodka, so I refuse,” Ezequiel slid it away.

“It is.”

Ezequiel shot him an amused look and sat up straight, taking a big gulp from the glass. He paused for moment to assimilate the betrayal before giving Ophion the deadly eye squint.

Ophion merely accepted it with a cocky grin.

Now that the music had slowed down, they continued their conversation from the dance floor which was on a topic that was really on a whole lot about nothing. They both ended up figuring out they just liked to hear each other talk. Occasionally they’d look over to the stage where the DJ had his set up. They were changing the backdrop to a logo of some sort. It was a bit far from them but Ezequiel could make out what seemed to be a torch.

Something about it made his mood drop just a tinge. He didn’t think much of it until the dancers came onto stage with staffs and hula hoops.

_Fuck._

He knew what kind of performance was about to be held. The crowd gathered excitedly near the stage. He had enough time to get up and excuse himself or simply turn his back to the stage but something kept him in place. The anxiety bubbling up, perhaps. Or the steady increase of his heartbeat and the sudden clamminess of his hands.

At the sight of the first flame Ezequiel looked away, shutting his eyes closed. Ophion was quick to notice the change in behavior.

“Hey,” He leaned in, placing a hand on Ezequiel’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Ezequiel opened his eyes, staring at the bar counter, afraid to look anywhere. Afraid he’d catch another glimpse. He wanted to say he was fine. But he found it hard to speak. He kept opening and closing his mouth. And god damn it, it was frustrating. He could feel Ophion staring at him. Waiting for an answer? Thinking _what the fuck_? He just needed time. He just needed to _breathe_.

_Why could he taste smoke?_

“It’s okay.” He heard Ophion say, in a gentle voice. He felt Ophion’s hand enclose around his own.

“M’fine.” He managed to say.

“Just close your eyes.” Ophion replied. It was an odd request but one that Ezequiel followed without much thought until he felt a force ripple through his body. It came so sudden it almost knocked the wind out of him. He opened his eyes with a gasp and found himself falling into Ophion’s arms.

Did he fall off the stool?

He blinked a couple of times before he realized he wasn’t anywhere near the stool, nor the bar nor Rabbit for that matter. He was outside, on a grassy field, in…downtown. He shook his head, blinking rapidly to make sure this wasn't a hallucination.

“What the _fuck?_ ” He half-shouted when the scenery didn't change. 

“I know. I know.” Ophion laughed, nervously. He wrapped an arm firmly around Ezequiel’s waist, pulling him upright but Ezequiel refused to let go, mouth gaping as he took in the view before him. No crowd, no bar. Really, there was no bar. Navy Pier was in sight, but where was the fucking _bar?_ Where was Rabbit in its entirety?

“Ophion…what—”

“Just happened?” Ophion cut in. He struggled with his next words. “I don't know, really. You saw the dancers. Uh, you freaked out and then I freaked out and…I didn’t know what to do.”

“What _**did**_ you do?” Ezequiel finally turned to look at him, eyes wide with shock. 

Ophion took a moment for himself and then exhaled. “I teleported us out.”

Ezequiel wanted to ask the world to stop spinning, if only for a second to get his shit together. “Like…magic?” He asked Ophion instead.

“Yes, like magic.” Ophion answered slowly in agreement. He watched Ezequiel's reaction intently, bracing himself for the millions of questions that were to follow. Instead, Ezequiel got a hold of himself.

He finally let go of Ophion and taking a second or two to process it before he simply replied with “Oh, okay.”

It was Ophion’s turn to look confused. “…okay?”

Ezequiel nodded, “Yeah, okay. You teleported us out. Got it.” He stumbled away, still in physical shock from the instantaneous change of location. He found a nice patch of grass to lay on.

Ophion blinked, unsure of what to do with himself. He looked down at Ezequiel, who took another moment to fix his thigh highs and skirt before settling back onto the soft ground.

“Are…we going to talk about this?” Ophion asked.

“About magic? Sure. Just give me a second.” Ezequiel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Holy shit, was that supposed to feel like getting hit by a train or something?"

"If it's your first time then, yes. Unfortunately. " He could hear the sympathetic tone in his words, topped with the cherry of guilt. And Ezequiel knew it was an odd time to also confess that Ophion could've been a doctor delivering bad news to him and he'd still adore the sweet honey smoothness of his voice.   

Ezequiel patted the patch of grass next to him.  “Lay down with me will you?”

Ophion did.

  
In the end, there wasn’t much talk about magic. Ezequiel brought up the carnival again. He talked about how they traveled all across North America each year and that there was one particular element that made them so popular; Amiel’s magic show. The audience almost always thought it was just state of the art special effects. Holograms and such. But no, Amiel could teleport for real. They could produce illusions out of thin air and make objects float. It was _real_ magic and Ezequiel didn’t know much about it.

Nor did he care to.

The world was filled with so many questions and he already had too many of his own regarding the shitfest he called his life so like hell he'd take the time to start on _magic_. He simply accepted it and moved on. Ophion respected that.

“I do have one question though.” Ezequiel asked.

“What’s that?”

“Do you guys learn magic or are you born with it? And do you have to keep it a secret from the world?”

Ophion smiled. “Well, one; that’s two questions.”

“Fuck off.”

They laughed. Ophion mentioned that as far as he knew, it could be both. He, for instance, was born with it but he knew of many that were taught how to wield it. There were many ways to interact with magic as it was less of thing and more of a being. A breathing force living in every crevice of the world. And those that possessed the ability to wield or conjure it went by different names: enchanters, magicians, witches, and even wizards. It was…a vast supernatural world living alongside Ezequiel’s own. Right beneath his fingertips, right in front of him.

Ezequiel couldn’t help but yawn, though he promised it was because he was tired and not because this was all boring to him. It was fascinating, absolutely. But he was sure it’d be all the more fascinating in the morning after eight hours of sleep.

Ophion stood up, brushing the back of his fitted slacks and extending out a hand to Ezequiel.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

Ezequiel shot him a coy look. “Are you gonna teleport me home?”

Ophion was not amused. “You really do like pushing your luck.”

“It’s my area of expertise.”

They did indeed teleport back to the carnival when Ezequiel refused to walk to the train station and was being a stubborn brat about getting up from the apparently oh-so cozy grass. He took Ophion’s extended hand, only to pull the man back down with him. They entertained themselves for another while and before Ezequiel knew it, he was back at the gates of El Carnaval de Cuentos.

“I’m sorry about tonight.” He told Ophion.

Ophion ran a hand through his dark curls, rewarding Ezequiel with that devilishly handsome smile of his. “There’s no need to be sorry.” He said. He took a good look at Ezequiel before adding, “Are you okay, though?”

Ezequiel nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Fire’s just uh…it’s a um…”

Ophion gently cut him off, “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I’m just glad you’re alright now.”

“Thanks.” Ezequiel chuckled in relief. He lit up seconds later. “Tomorrow night?”

“I’m down if you are.”

It was a plan. Agreed and signed with a big yawn that let Ophion know that was his cue to exit. Ezequiel offered him some money to travel back but Ophion smirked, announcing he’d simply teleport home. Ezequiel told him to piss off and then they exchanged goodbyes.

Ezequiel was already savoring how good his bed was going to feel.  _Beauty sleep, here I come_ he sang in his head. He was halfway past the gates when a voice called out to him.

“Ezequiel?”

He stopped mid-stretch. That definitely did not sound like Ophion and it was most certainly not him when he turned around. A girl with short wavy black hair stood not far from where Ophion had teleported. 

“Uh…yeah?” He answered awkwardly.

“Oh **fuck**.” She gasped.

Her response caught him off guard. Though, if he was going to be completely honest, her entire sudden existence caught him off guard. He didn’t know how to begin to process it. “Do I know you?” seemed to be a good start.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” She slapped her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I’m just—I can’t believe it’s you. Ezequiel Amado, right?”

“Yes,” He nodded reluctantly, “And…you are?”

“I’m your cousin!” She practically shouted and then shrunk back at the loudness of her voice. “Sorry. I’m Jas. Or Jasmine.”

Ezequiel took a long moment before responding. He wasn’t processing anything, he just needed a second, a minute to pause the world. So much had happened, it was starting to feel like a dream. Maybe this was a dream. 

“I’m sorry, I’m half asleep. Did you say cousin?”

“Yes, cousin.” She nodded. There was a frantic urgency about her tone and her movements which made the encounter a lot more unsettling and strange. “But listen, Ezequiel. I know this going to sound really weird—”

“Oh, it already does, _cousin._ ” Ezequiel interrupted with crossed arms. 

“Oh my god.” Jas ran a hand down her face. She looked stressed. Ezequiel didn’t know what to do or how to respond with whatever was playing out in front of him. “You’re right. Fuck, I didn’t plan this far. I didn’t think I’d actually find you. I don’t even know where to start!”

“Well you can start by telling me what you’re doing here.” Ezequiel suggested, though he was already questioning was he still entertaining this scene. He was out of conversation juice and the only thing on his mind was the sweet call of his bed and pillows.

Jasmine’s eyes widened as if she remembered something. She took a deep breath and brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

“I came to help you.” She said. There was a short pause, as if she was waiting for Ezequiel's reaction but a twitch in her expression made him think she quickly changed her mind. She continued in a nervous rush, “I’ve been trying to find you for years. And I know how ridiculous that sounds but _God_ , there’s so much. I just." She stopped, staring at the ground, considering her next words. When she looked back up, there was something in her eyes that made Ezequiel feel slightly uncomfortable. Was it fear?

"You’re not safe, Ezequiel. I think...I think there’s something after you.”

Ezequiel stared at her.

Maybe for a moment too long.

Then he was pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “It’s too early for pranks.”

“What?” Jasmine began to shake her head. “No, no Ezequiel I’m not joking. This isn’t a prank, please—”

“Listen, Jasmine.” Ezequiel cut her off, again. “Do you how you sound right now?”

“Yes!” She groaned, running another hand down her face. “I just told you, I know it sounds ridiculous I _know!_ ”

“Good, just making sure we’re on the same page.” Ezequiel dug around in the pockets of his bomber jacket, pulling out his cellphone. “But look, it’s three am and I’m ready to pass out so, if you wanna cut to the chase here. You know, have your laugh and be on your merry way, that’d be awesome.”

“There’s nothing to laugh about.” She said. Ezequiel could swear he almost heard her voice crack but he was tired and half convinced she wasn’t even real at that point. 

“You’re right.” He agreed. “Cause it’s not funny and this is a shitty prank to pull on someone. Goodnight.”

He turned to leave.

“Ezequiel, wait!” She pleaded. “Please, I just found you.”

Ezequiel groaned. He swiveled back around and motioned to carnival. “Well now you know where I am! So, if you’re that persistent, why don’t you come back in the morning. You know, at a regular non-suspicious time.”

Jasmine shrunk back. For a moment, she genuinely looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just…I really didn’t think I’d find you tonight.”

Ezequiel felt bad for lashing out. He took a look at her and suddenly noticed the yellow tailcoat she was wearing as well as the white gloves and the amulet hanging around her neck.

“Are you a Ringleader?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. She sounded so bummed out and defeated that Ezequiel had to fight the urge to apologize like an idiot. To a stranger that was trespassing and trying to convince him she was his cousin. What the fuck was going on, really? 

He knew one thing: he was tired. Like hell. 

“Can you teleport?” He asked after a while. It wasn't such a stretch of a question. Amiel could do it. Ophion could do it. So maybe his "cousin" could too. 

She nodded. “It’s how I got here.”

 _What a small fucking world filled with pinche wizards and shit_ , he thought.

But his tone softened. “Well teleport home safely. I’m going to bed.”

She nodded again, though it looked like she wanted to say something. She really did look stressed out. Worse then when Benjamin looked during the SATs. But Ezequiel was tired, he was fucking tired. And by the time he landed on his bed, he was too exhausted to think about her words. She’d been looking for him for years? Something was following him? Sounded like something straight out of a movie. In fact, he could count off on all fingers all the Hollywood titles that carried those exact tropes.

He only got to three before he finally drifted to sleep.


	3. The Traveler [Part I]

The tavern was old, damp and a teardrop away from caving in. He wondered how any soul could bare to linger within its stone walls for even a moment’s rest. Yet, as he pulled the shabby wooden doors back, he was met with a symphony of chaos. There had to be dozens of drunken bodies occupying tables wet with spilled drinks. There was not enough room for all to sit, much less exist within the cramped space. But they were all oblivious to the thick humid air and the clashing of their bodies as they swayed to the bar and back.

Maybe it was best that they were off in their own wonderland. He got a few looks after his entrance but none from sober eyes. _Good_. He wasn’t exactly a regular there in fact, he wasn’t from that town. Just a stranger passing by.

A traveler.

He carried only what was necessary and to him that meant three things: his thick maroon cloak, a good pair of leather boots and a journal. Anyone in that town, anyone in that _realm_ would’ve declared how ridiculous it was to travel without any currency, and most importantly, without a weapon of sorts. It didn’t matter which corner of the universe you found yourself tucked into, there was always bound to be danger.

He knew this but did not care for the evils that lurked in the shadows. He wasn’t afraid of thieves hiding under bridges or the vampires that stalked the tall grassy plains. On the contrary, he was curious. For in the pages of his journal there were hundreds upon hundreds of encounters inked into the yellowed parchment. He knew thieves, he knew vampires, humans and creatures alike he studied them. Saw what made them tick. If there was one thing he learned during his years of traveling, it was that the more you knew, the less you feared.

Of course, if he did happen to come across a dangerous path; a sudden encounter that could not be reasoned with understanding—well—he always had his magic.

The traveler maneuvered his way around a group of gentlemen singing away their sorrow and sat on stool at the bar. A glance out of the foggy windows showed the sun was beginning to set behind the pine trees. Night would come and he had yet to find a place to stay. He was tired and hungry; a pair of facts that he could not continue denying, at least, not for much longer.

With his skill, he knew he could easily conjure up a tent and some wool blankets. Food was a little trickier but still manageable. But it wasn’t the lack of sleep and nourishment that had him running bruised hands through his hair in frustration.

It had been years since he left his home to explore the realms with only one goal in mind: to devour the history of magic and improve his skills. And that he did. He spent every second he could training under the guidance of many enchanters. But somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Can I get you a pint?” He heard someone say. It was a friendly voice and he took a second to appreciate it. The last couple of towns had very few voices like that. If a stranger was welcomed on their first day, it was almost always a good sign.

He accepted it because there wasn’t much else left to do.

There was something missing, he knew it. The last piece of a puzzle. But what was it?

“Where are you from, sir?”

By the time the traveler brought himself back to reality, back to the shitty, dirty tavern, he realized he had somehow started a conversation with the young man sitting beside him. He had a mop a greasy blonde hair, green eyes and an uneven patch of hair on his chin. His cheeks were flushed; the tell sign of being one drink away from passing out.

But he decided to indulge him, nonetheless.

“From far away.” He replied, taking a large gulp of his ale.

“That’s funny, you’re the second stranger to say that around here.” The man had a warm smile, one that almost made you feel sorry for him. “Those exact words, actually.”  

“Shame, I always aim for first place.” The traveler deadpanned and gave the window a second glance. Night was still steadily approaching, and he was going to have to decide soon about whether he was willing to conjure up his bed while drunk or not.

“Who beat me to it?” He decided to play this game a little while longer.

The young man chewed his lip in thought, hand tightly gripping the counter to keep himself upward. He hummed, searching his foggy brain for an answer and then lit up like a firework when he remembered. “Tall.” He said, patting his chest to release a burp. “Sir was tall and wore a hooded cloak. Not like yours. It was pitch black. Could barely see his face.”

“Sounds ominous.” The traveler responded, hiding his smirk behind another gulp of drink.

“It was.” The young man nodded intensely. His eyes grew wide and his lips spread into a thin line. “He said he was a part of the shadows. Wanted to know how to get to the neutral world.”

The traveler raised a skeptical brow but something in him stirred. Pitch black cloaks and shadows were words that would alarm anyone in any realm. The Shadows were a coven of corrupted magicians who traveled through the realms devouring any source of magic, leaving death and destruction in their wake. It had been almost a century since their disappearance. No one knew what happened, where they went, or if any of them were still alive. Truth became rumor and rumor became myth. The Shadows were nothing more then a scary bedtime story.

“They’ve been in hiding for years. What would they want with the neutral world?” The traveler had to bite back the laugh in his throat. The neutral world was the last place the Shadows would go. It was called that for a reason; magic was as scarce as could be and very few of the people who inhabited it knew of its existence. Even less had the ability to wield it.

But the young man grew all the more wild at the traveler’s statement. He practically fell off his stool, holding out a finger in defense. “No, no it’s important you see. You see…he said it’s there.” He let out a maniacal laugh. “It’s there now. It’s finally there.”

The traveler sighed. He was getting rather bored of this game. Ridiculous tales were not his taste. But he decided to indulge him one last time. “What is finally there?” He asked.

The young man gave him a wide toothy grin. “The birth of lightning.”

And in all his years of traveling, the traveler would have never guessed this was where it truly began. In this little tavern at the edge of town with a dozen of drunken bodies.

The search for the birth of lightning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding when I said it was short. Side chapters will probably be around this length. There's a few more. Again, you may be a little confused but don't worry, it'll all make sense soon. :D  
> Anyways, see you guys Friday!


	4. Rabbit

Ezequiel stood in the middle of his room, facing his window with closed eyes. He took a long deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, and allowed the rays of sunlight to fall on his skin like a gentle good morning kiss. The whir of his A/C had died down a while back and though it did its job of keeping his room chilly throughout the night, Ezequiel could already feel the hot air seeping in through the open crack of his window. Not that he minded.

He took another deep breath and this time, he stretched his whole body along with it, until he was on his tip toes with his fingers lightly scratching the ceiling. Just outside he could hear the carnival slowly waking up. The footsteps of the staff, along with the strong smell of their coffee. The slurred start of the rides and the whimsical music sailing in the air. Soon he’d be able to smell the sugary churros, the salty pretzels and the buttery scent of popcorn. He was used to all of this but today he was cherishing it. He was melting in it like an ice cream cone underneath the sweltering sun.

This is what summer mornings were meant to be.

He released a loud, obnoxious yawn. After a good night’s sleep, he felt well rested; energetic even, and he wanted the whole world to know. He walked over to his dresser, stumbling over his stack of movies on VHS. If he took a moment to look around, he’d realize just how messy his room was. There were piles of clean clothes that were yet to be put away just sagging on a chair. Half of his posters, wavy from the heat, were barely clinging to the walls by a piece of tape. Notebooks, pens, comics, and games littered the floor; reminders of the previous nights, the ones he stayed up with ungodly amounts of coffee.

He could almost smile about it now.

The speaker on his dresser was turned on and with it came the catchy beat of a drum. Ezequiel closed his eyes again, lip-syncing to the vocals as the sound of the synthesizers filled the room. He bobbed his head along as he pulled off his t-shirt, grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom for a nice cool shower.

He felt good.

 _Good_ —a word he was starting to familiarize himself with again, a feeling that was reconnecting somewhere deep inside him, though he could not pinpoint the exact moment he last felt like this. Not that he needed to. Not that he wanted to. He was enjoying it, getting lost in the music and the sweet delicious energy running through his veins.

He didn’t notice Benjamin knocking on his bathroom door. Nor did he pay attention to the first half of their conversation as he got dressed and ready for his shift. He was still singing along to the music when Benjamin turned off the speakers and turned to shoot him an annoyed look. Ezequiel didn’t understand all the huffs and puffs.

“Are you listening to me?” Benjamin asked, dodging Ezequiel’s hand that was ready to ruffle up his perfect pompadour.

Ezequiel brushed him off. “Yeah. I told you, I  ended up feeling better last night and went for a walk. Then I met up with a friend for a few drinks, that’s all.”

He tucked his phone and wallet in his jeans and headed out.

Benjamin followed shortly behind. He wasn’t budging. “I meant about Tia Lola.”

If Ezequiel was honest, her name hadn’t registered in his mind until now. He’d even forgotten Benjamin visited her last night. Truth was, there were only two things on his mind: Ophion and Rabbit. It thrilled him just to think that in a couple of hours, when the sun set and the chilly breeze pulled in, he’d be back underneath the starry dome, bathing in neon light.

Benjamin was still waiting for an answer.

Ezequiel didn’t have one. So, he offered him a smile instead and patted his cheek. “We’ll talk later, Jam Jam.”

It wasn’t a promise, only a fleeting thought. As soon as it escaped his lips it evaporated. He didn’t notice the pout on his brother’s face because he was already heading out into the warm sunny morning, excited and ready to enjoy the day to its fullest.

The rest of his week was a blur but a beautiful, adrenaline filled blur. As was the following week.

He didn’t dare question where all the energy came from. He figured a couple of days of decent sleep did the trick and left it at that. He had better things to focus on. Or rather, not focus at all. Just feel. Just sink. Just _live_.

Ophion was there, every night, just for him. He’d wait at the gates as Ezequiel tugged on his shoes and slipped out through his window as he used to do when he was a teenager, always thanking God he lived on the first floor of his apartment. He felt like _that_ again. A giggle suppressed in his chest, fingers tingling with excitement and slight nervousness even though he was an adult and there was really no reason to keep any of his late-night outs a secret from anyone.

But where was the fun in that?

Together they’d roam the city streets, always laughing, always finding a reason to smile at one another. Ezequiel would stretch his hands far above his head, into the night sky as if he could reach the stars and pluck one from the pitch-black blanket stretched over the tall buildings. He’d close his eyes and hum along to his favorite song. And when Ophion would start humming along, Ezequiel would spin around, take his hand and run.

Ophion knew where they’d be heading. They always ended up there, on the dance floor, in the lounge, or at the bar. Within the glowing walls of Rabbit, Ezequiel found a way to make his summer nights feel like an eternal high.

“I should take you home.” Ophion said one night, when the lights dimmed down and the transition of the music gave his voice enough clarity for Ezequiel’s ears to catch. The moment was brief and soon the club lit up to the next beat.

“No.” Ezequiel mouthed over the music and flashed him a grin as he left hopped off his stool and wandered into the crowd. When he looked back, Ophion was taking the last swig of his drink, a playful _something_ tugging on his lips.

Ezequiel didn’t need to wait for him, Ophion would find him in the crowd. He always did.

 

* * *

 

The carnival was moving.

The news came like punch to the gut even when it shouldn’t have. He knew it was going to happen. That’s what carnivals did, they moved. _Constantly_. They called it a tour; a season and the carnival season waited for no one. He knew this, he **_knew_** this and still, it came crashing in like a wave, sweeping him from his feet and pulling him under.

“It’s only been two weeks.” Ezequiel stated like it wasn’t unusual for a carnival to do a two-week pit stop when they weren’t even halfway done with the tour.

“Exactly and that’s a little longer than we stay at most places.” Amiel reminded him.

“So what’s another week?” He argued lamely, knowing deep down there was no point. Still, he followed Amiel around the carnival like a lost puppy, hoping by some miracle they’d just turn around and agree to stay. 

Instead, they chuckled. Anyone else might’ve gotten annoyed by how pressed Ezequiel was to keep the carnival in Chicago. But not Amiel; their patience went unmatched.

He tried not to pout. The last thing he wanted to do was look desperate. Especially when he was the one who didn’t want to come to the city in the first place. A sudden change of heart might raise questions and knowing Amiel, they’d be questions he wouldn’t be ready to answer.

But maybe he _was_ desperate. He had finally found some stability and not just in the form of eight hours of sleep. He was finally starting to feel grounded; as if he was tied to the earth like everyone else.

He had drifted all his life, from one day to the next, month after month, year after year. Benjamin had come to call the carnival their home but to Ezequiel, it felt too distant, too fleeting as if one day he’d leave and go back to his _real_ home. But where was that? Mexico was once his home. He was born there. He was raised there but those were the voids he could not reach. Those were the couple of photographs he kept in a box underneath his bed. And Chicago…well, it was hard to call that a home too. Not after Graduation night. Not after his fight with Lola.

Maybe he was desperate to belong somewhere.

“I could stay with Lola.” He whispered under his breath.

Amiel peeled their eyes off their set list. “Hm? Sorry?”

Ezequiel was glad they weren’t listening because truth be told, he didn’t know why he said that. He was sure he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have.

He sighed. “I was just asking when we were leaving.”

“Oh. Our last show is tomorrow night. But Benji wants to visit Lola one last time so I would say three days max before we head out.”

Three days.

* * *

 

That night Ezequiel met up with Ophion at Rabbit. He wasn’t in the mood to dance; he was hardly in the mood for anything. His drink tasted bitter even for a fruity cocktail, probably because he was upset and visibly so. They sat in the dim lounge, conversation scarce. Their silence was still comfortable, but it was apparent something was off. Ophion lazily draped himself over the leather sofa as he sipped on his third Jack and Coke, very aware of Ezequiel’s moody aura. He took a jab at Ezequiel’s thigh.

“What’s on your mind?”

“The carnival is moving.” Ezequiel replied unreasonably sharp. Ophion knew it wasn’t targeted at him, but he did love a good taunt.

“Yes, I assume that’s what carnivals do.” He tried to minimize the smirk on his face. “I faintly remember you telling me you traveled… _a lot_.”

Ezequiel glared down at him. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for jokes either.

His face softened after a while when Ophion nudged him again, this time with an apology peeping through his smile.

Ezequiel fell back on the sofa with a loud sigh. The music felt so far away. The neon crept through the tiles of the floor, illuminating them in a blueish hue.

“Things were just starting to feel normal.”

“Normal?” Ophion echoed, giving his drink a confused pout before shifting his gaze to his friend.

Ezequiel didn’t reply. Not for a while. They sat there in silence again, listening to the music or drifting off in space, into their own thoughts. Ezequiel looked over to see Ophion staring at his drink again. He wondered what he thought about. What he was thinking at that very moment.

“You’ve ever been inside a house of mirrors?” He asked suddenly.

Ophion drifted back to reality, brows furrowed as he looked up at Ezequiel, trying to connect the dots. When he failed, he merely shrugged. “Not to my knowledge.”

“It’s a maze with mirrors that make you look all weird and shit.”

“Ah.” He nodded, still unsure of where the conversation was leading. “And what’s the purpose of that?”

Ezequiel chuckled, leaning back to set his feet on the table in front of him. He thought for a moment. “I guess it’s just there to entertain you. To distract you as you make your way through. I mean, the end goal is to find your way out.”

“Yes, that much I figured.” Ophion giggled and Ezequiel joined. He could tell the man was riding a nice buzz after six drinks.

They went quiet again until a couple stumbled into the lounge, to preoccupied with their hands and lips on each other (and possibly too drunk) to even notice they missed one of the couches by an inch and were now on the floor groaning and moaning.

Ophion’s jaw dropped in shock and when he was very obviously ready to release a cackle, Ezequiel lunged forward and slapped a hand over his mouth, hushing him as he tried not to erupt into his own fit of giggles.

He was starting to feel the subtle effects of his drink, which he was thankful for. Instead of going back to his couch, Ezequiel found his spot on the floor next to the sofa Ophion was laying on. They were closer that way; something he didn’t know he needed, let alone wanted in that moment. 

“So you’re in a maze...” Ophion continued, the subtle slur of his voice was soothing to hear.

Ezequiel nodded.

“I’m in a maze.” He thought about the carnival leaving. “And every reflection of me is distorted and exaggerated. Its fake. I feel fake.”

“But that’s the point, right?” Ophion interrupted and Ezequiel put a finger over his lips again.

“Shut up. I’m being poetic.” He grinned. Ophion returned the gestured.

“It’s been like that my whole life. I pass by, reflection after reflection and none of them have ever felt like me. I know I have to keep moving, you know, to get out and shit. But. What if I’m tired of moving.”

He looked at Ophion and thought about Chicago. About the pictures underneath his bed. About the brother he was losing touch with. “What if I’ve found a reflection that isn’t perfect but…it’s the closest I’ve ever come to the real me?”

“Who is the real you?” Ophion asked in the soberest voice he’s had all night.

Ezequiel opened his mouth to speak until he realized he had no answer to that. The drink went sour in his mouth again. “You weren’t supposed to get poetic back at me, Ophion.”

They didn’t have much to say after that. Ophion sat up and pulled out a tiny vial from his pocket; a thing he called _waker’s potion_. It was supposed to sober you up and to Ezequiel’s surprise, it did. He figured if he didn’t pay attention to the magical world around him, then it was bound to keep surprising him.

Ophion dropped him off at the gates of ECDC. The night was chillier than usual, so they didn’t stay out too long to chat. Ezequiel was upset again though he was trying so hard not to be. When Ophion sensed this, he tugged on the hem of Ezequiel’s bomber jacket.

“Hey, you still have another night here.” He reassured. “Plus, you’ll still get to see me. I can teleport.”

Ezequiel smirked. “Funny how you think this has anything to do with you.”

“I thought I was the only reason you were upset?” Ophion blinked, innocently.

The two laughed.

“We never got to go in the pool.” Ezequiel added and finally surrendered to the pout that had been itching to be released.

Ophion lit up, wrapping a hand over Ezequiel’s shoulder to lead him into the gates. “Then that’s what we’ll do tomorrow. We’ll just lose it and jump into the pool, clothes and all. How does that sound?”

“Whack.” Ezequiel whined, though he couldn’t lie, that sounded fucking great.

“Get to bed.”

He was pushed gently past the gates and before Ezequiel could get another word in, Ophion was gone.

Inside his room, Ezequiel thumbed mindlessly over countless books. Pulled out every movie from his shelf. But nothing felt appealing, nothing was catching his attention.

He walked over and flopped on his bed releasing a long sigh that held every stressed minute of the day. The carnival was moving and that was that. It had never been hard before. Why was it now? It was stupid to think he had found some stability in the two or so weeks that they had been here. If he didn’t find that when he lived in Chicago for seven years how the fuck could he have found it now?

Maybe it was the eight hours of sleep. Maybe it was the fact that **_it_** hadn’t shown up in two weeks.

His stomach sank. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about anything anymore but when he rolled over to his side, he was hit with the realization that he wasn’t even tired.

Fuck.

There was a knock on his door. It was Benjamin asking if had seen his one of his necklaces lying around, the golden rose that was given to him by their mother. Well, _supposedly._ Benjamin was the only one that had no doubt about it.

Ezequiel knew they both had foggy memories of their past, but Benjamin claimed he could still remember some things. Like the small ranch in which they lived on, the hills, and even their father’s strong hands. They were things he could still recall vividly in his mind. Ezequiel couldn’t. Everything was out of focus.

He hadn’t seen the necklace.

They engaged in small talk after that, which felt nice. It felt good to talk to Benjamin. Felt like old times which made Ezequiel wonder why they had even become old times. He knew _when_ things changed…he just couldn’t understand why he let them.

“She misses you.” He heard Benjamin say. His voice felt off; a little too somber. Somehow, they had gotten back on the subject of Lola. Benjamin really had his mind on her lately. He had bugged him a couple of times to go visit her, but it was always followed with a sudden drop in his mood, just like now.

“I miss her too.” Ezequiel replied, not skipping a single beat.

It was a truth they both knew, and Benjamin seem to at least find a bit of solace in that though Ezequiel could tell there was still something bothering him. Something itching to be asked.

“What?” He asked, hoping to finally get this conversation out of him.

“What happened the last time we came to visit her?”

Benjamin’s brows were furrowed, as if he’d been debating all night whether he wanted to ask that question. Ezequiel wanted his response to be “nothing” but that would’ve been the equivalent to slapping his brother in the face.

He didn’t know how the visit went this year, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the smile on Lola’s face and the warmth of her embrace as she opened the door and beamed about how “big” Benjamin had gotten.

It also wasn’t hard to remember last year’s visit and the ride back home. Ezequiel had tucked himself in the backseat, away from Amiel and Benjamin. They didn’t know that the slam of the door was still ringing in his ears. That he could still feel his angry shouts in his throat, and he could still see the tears that were waiting to fall from Lola’s eyes.

They didn’t know but somehow Ezequiel knew that could feel it in the silence. How it suffocated them the whole way back to the carnival.

Yet, no one said a thing. And within a week, it was like nothing had happened.

Lola never called. Even before their fight, she never called to say hi or check up on them. And it was a thing they just accepted, until Ezequiel didn’t. There were so many missing pieces in his life, so many odd and out of place things that just fed into his anger. This red, hot anger that grew inside his chest. And when he finally snapped and demanded answers, Lola told him to leave. Just like she had done on the night of his graduation.

Benjamin was shifting nervously on the bed, unsure if Ezequiel was going to answer or not. He looked like he wanted an answer; like he was praying for one.

Ezequiel bit back the guilt and shook his head. “Nothing.”

Benjamin exhaled sharply, as if he'd been holding his breath. He didn’t slump in defeat like he usually did whenever Ezequiel refused something. Instead, his jaw tensed. He looked away.

“I’m tired.” Ezequiel added aimlessly, just to say something. Just to get Benjamin to look at him again.

“I can see that.” Was all his brother said. It was always hard for him to hide the bitterness in his words. He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Ezequiel felt alone.

 

* * *

 

Rabbit was alive with heavy synth music and drinks that seemed to glow under the black lights. The crowd was bigger than ever, packed in every room, from the lounges to the bars to the flashy neon dance floor at the center. The lazer lights cut shapes into the air, garnering drunken cheers from the dancing crowd. The floor shook with their collective jumps, the bass doing its share of the work on the walls and just about everything else.

It was a massive celebration in the glowing dark. Of what?

Of Ezequiel’s last night in Chicago.

“Actually, apparently some rich dude rented the place out for tonight. I think it’s his birthday...or something.” Ophion shouted over the raging music. He pointed down below. “Might explain the colossal fucking cake.”

A couple of staff members were dragging a huge table on wheels with an equally massive ten tier cake. Ezequiel thought about jumping from the balcony they were situated in. Jumping right into the asshole’s big fucking cake.

“I’m surprised we got in without a cover.” Ophion continued, then took a lengthy sip of his long island tea. “Or an invite.”

Ezequiel was being moody. He knew it and he knew this was not the way he wanted to spend the last night. Ophion was right, it wasn’t like he was going away forever. There were two months left before the carnival season ended. Two months and he could come back to Chicago and things would go back to how they were.

He didn’t want to end on a sour note. So, he did the only thing he could think of at that moment; he snatched Ophion’s drink and took it all down in record time.

Ophion looked at him with raised brows. “Are you okay?”

Ezequiel wiped his lips with his shirt. “Yeah, I’m great. Let’s eat some fucking cake.”

The cake was off limits, but the dance floor wasn’t, and they spent a good chunk of their time with the chaotic crowd. Ezequiel loosened up, mostly thanks to the long island tea and a couple of other drinks that were now slowly creeping up on him. But he was feeling _fan-fucking-tastic_ and that’s all that mattered.

When they got tired, they pulled off to the side maneuvering their way through the packed club and by chance, found some empty seats at the bar. The subject happened to land on favorite slashers of the 80’s to which Ophion got scolded for choosing Ghostface.

“So, I was off a decade.” He rolled his eyes, devouring the glass of water in front of him. “He’s still good.”

“But not valid here.” Ezequiel slammed his fist on the counter, causing his own glass of water to spill. They erupted in laughter. “Aw shit, I’m soaked.”

Ophion then lit up like a lightbulb. He tapped on Ezequiel’s shoulder as if he didn’t already have his attention. “The pool. Ezequiel, the pool!”

“The pool!” Ezequiel caught on quick, jumping in his seat. “Where is it?”

“In the lower level. The stairs are right by the stage.”

Although squeezing through the sea of sweaty bodies again didn’t exactly sound like fun, the pool _did_. And Ezequiel was ready to make that sacrifice.

“What are we waiting for?”

Ophion grabbed his hand and they made their way back into the crowd.

Ezequiel had lost track of time like he always did. Nights at Rabbit felt eternal and this one was no different. He didn’t have to worry about Amiel or Benjamin anymore. They knew he was out. He didn’t have to worry about the sun rising and walking past the gates of ECDC. For all he knew, his night was just beginning.

As they pushed through the crowd, someone bumped into Ezequiel. It wasn’t an unusual thing. The club was at its capacity limit. He didn’t need to think twice about it, nor apologize. So, it was only by chance that of all the times he was bumped into, shoved, or accidentally brushed against, he decided tonight would be the one time he'd let his gaze shift over to the person he made contact with.

And God, he wished he didn’t.

Because the girl happened to look back at him and they both instantly froze.

“Jasmine?” Ezequiel shouted over the music. Even though his voice was almost completely drowned out by the synths, Jasmine seem to shrink back at the sound of her name. Like she’d been caught.

But caught doing what?

“Ezequiel?” She shouted back. She looked just as confused as he did and that was enough to spur some doubt in his mind. For now.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, as if he had any right to ask.

She looked at him, unable to answer. In her defense, they were both being bumped into by dozens of people and their voices were barely above the sound of a whisper thanks to the speakers which were not too far away from them. It wasn’t exactly a great place for a conversation.

Ezequiel felt someone tug his hand. It was Ophion, motioning to Jasmine with the nod of his head. He was smart enough not to waste his voice. Ezequiel wasn’t.

“She’s a friend!” He shouted.

He could’ve left it at that and brushed her off. But something was holding him back. And Jasmine wasn’t exactly brushing him off either. They were both waiting. And so was Ophion.

“I’ll meet you at the pool.” Ophion leaned in his ear to say. He had a smile on his face.

Ezequiel nodded. He turned to look at Jasmine. He wasn’t sure of the conversation they were going to have. He just hoped it was a quick one.

They ended up in a small hallway near the bathrooms, where the music wasn’t bleeding through their ears and party goers were scarce. Odd for a club. The bathrooms were always the most crowded place. The white marble walls seemed to change color, but Ezequiel wasn’t fixated on any of that. He was eyeing Jasmine suspiciously. But in his weak defense, he wasn’t the soberest of people, so his logic was making weird turns.

“You’re following me now, huh.” He squinted his eyes at her.

“What? No! I haven’t even tried to contact you since you embarrassed me that night in front of your whole carnival.” She fired back.

“It was three am, it was just me.”

“Someone could’ve heard!”

Ezequiel rolled his eyes. “Yeah if someone heard you loudly claiming to be my cousin, I’m sure there would’ve been lots of questions in the morning.”

“I _am_ your cousin.” She stated authoritatively, as if she dared Ezequiel to question her again.

“Oh, don’t start.” Ezequiel tried to wave her off, but she swapped his hand out of her face. She was serious.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me what I was doing here.”

“Yeah, so just tell me! Tell me it’s a coincidence already. Tell me you’re here for that rich dudes party so I can fuck off.”

“Why?” She leaned forward, glaring. “You can just believe that on your own and fuck off anyways. Why do you need me to say it?”

Ezequiel was getting irritated. He ran a hand through his dark curls, pulling at their roots. He chuckled bitterly, “I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation with you.”

“You just don’t _want_ to believe, do you?” Her voice was heavy and upset. She dug into her hoodie, pulling out her wallet. “Well you want proof? Huh, Ezequiel? There, take it. Read my fucking name.”

She pushed a small plastic card into his hand. It was her driver’s license. She had short spiky purple hair in the photo but there was no denying, even under the rough lighting, that was her. And beside it, next to her age and other info was her name:

Jasmine Amado.

“Our fathers were brothers.”

Ezequiel couldn’t react. There was so much doubt in him. So much liquor fogging up his mind. Then Jasmine dug her hands back into her pockets and pulled out a photograph. She was still talking, shoving the picture into his hands. Ezequiel couldn’t respond. He held the photograph of two men leaning against a white pickup truck. One of the men, the one with sandy brown hair and a clean-shaven face was a complete stranger. But the other, the one with dark hair and a set of deep brown eyes and tan skin…immediately struck a chord within him. He recognized those eyes, that smile. Although it was foggy in his brain, it made his stomach sink. He couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t convince himself that was he saw were two strangers with their arms around their shoulders, sharing a laugh.

That was his father, looking back at him.

“What are you doing here, Jasmine?” Ezequiel handed the photo back. He didn’t feel too hot anymore.

“I’m trying to figure out what really happened to my uncle.”

“At a _club_?” Ezequiel asked incredulously. “And what the fuck do you mean by that? What are you talking about?”

Jasmine was holding her forehead, mumbling something under her breath. She looked stressed, not much different then the first night he met her.

“It’s a lot, okay? I told you before. And listen…this isn’t a good place—”

“As good a place as any, now what do you mean _what really happened_?”

“I need to know how they really died!” Jasmine shouted.

He froze.

“How they really died? My parents were found on the highway, crushed in a pile up accident. They were on their way home. That’s how they fucking died.” Ezequiel felt every word hot on his tongue, stinging his skin. He hadn’t talked about his parents in years, much less their death. But the alcohol in his system had made it easy to access the places he constantly kept in the dark, locked up.

Jasmine shook her head. Her eyes were watering up. Her voice was breaking. “Then where were their _bodies_ , Ezequiel? Where were _you_? You weren’t at their funeral.”

“Yes I was!” Ezequiel shouted. Jasmine did not shrink back this time. She glared back.

“No you weren’t! But I was there!” Her lips trembled. “I held my dad’s hand as he cried over an empty casket. And I watched him crumble for years! I watched him lose himself trying to figure out what happened to his brother. Until he was gone. Until he was lying in his own fucking casket!”

“Stop! Just stop!” Ezequiel yelled, grabbing Jasmine by the shoulders. There were tears streaming down her face. Ezequiel had nothing but white-hot anger boiling inside him but deep down he was afraid, because her words felt like bruises, scattered across his chest as if the damage had already been done years ago and she was only reminding him of what it once felt like.

No. **_No._**

“There’s something really wrong, Ezequiel.” She continued, grabbing onto him. “I’ve followed _it_ for years.”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!” Ezequiel pushed her away, covering his ears. The music was far away yet he could feel it pounding in his ears.

“It’s something dark. Something evil. And it led me to you.”

“Fuck you!” He shouted all his pain. All his anger. He couldn’t handle anymore. This was all a lie. A sick fucking lie and he wanted to be away. So far away. He ran out of the hall. He could hear Jasmine calling his name, pleading for him to come back.

It was all a lie.

Ezequiel pushed through the crowd, a cacophony of laughter and shouts. He felt someone’s drink run down his arm. The air was too thick to breathe in. He needed air. He needed to be away from the touch of strangers and the booming music.

He saw his father, his mother. He saw them being lowered into the ground. He had been holding Benjamin’s hand…but he couldn’t remember his face. He couldn’t remember anyone’s faces. It was blurry. So blurry…

Ezequiel pushed through a final time and stumbled into an empty space. A part of him was relieved to think he had finally made his way through the crammed dance floor but when he looked up, gasping in the sudden cool air, he was met with complete darkness.

There was no dance floor. No sea of moving bodies. The music was gone and so were the lights, swallowed up somewhere. Ezequiel was standing on a surface he could not see. There was nothing. No end, no beginning.

For the second time that night, he felt his stomach drop—this time, with a familiar sense of dread. Something that told him he’d been here before. He closed his eyes, breathing in sharply, attempting to remain composed. He could feel his hands trembling at his sides. He balled them up into fists, teeth gritted as he counted under his breath.

“One, two, three, four…”

He opened his eyes and the pitch-black was still there, surrounding him. Engulfing him in a thick silence.

Ezequiel growled impatiently, erratically.

This wasn’t real. He must’ve blacked out in the middle of the crowd. He was not awake. But the thumping of his heart hurt something real. He clawed at his arms and pain was _real_.

“Jasmine!” He yelled into the void. He spun around countless times, searching for an exit, a sign, a silhouette of anything. His voice didn’t even echo, and he was afraid to move.

A switch was pulled and a bright light beamed down from the endless ceiling.

Ezequiel turned towards the sound and there, not more than ten feet away from him, stood a person in a large white t-shirt and faded jeans.  

“Hello?” Ezequiel spoke but his voice rose barely above a whisper. He should’ve been happy to see another person. Someone who could help him. He should’ve had every instinct to run up to them and ask what the fuck was going on. But he couldn’t.

They had their back towards him. And they were very still. Not even the subtle rise and fall of their shoulders as they breathed.

Ezequiel could not deny the dread pooling in his stomach.

There was something wrong.

Their fingers twitched at their sides, as if they had been alerted of Ezequiel’s presence. His throat ran dry. He needed to get out of there. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling and began to take small steps back. If he could get enough distance, he could turn around and run.

But the fingers were curling now, shoulders hunching as if the person were awaking. And then they went still once more. They were listening. Could they hear his breathing? Could they read his thoughts?

“Ezequiel…”

The body turned around and his blood ran cold.

It was a man. A stranger, smiling an unnaturally wide smile. He had no eyes only two gaping holes bleeding dark red. The blood dripped into his mouth as he raised his hands in front of him, reaching for Ezequiel.

“They…want…you.” He spoke, blood gurgling at the back of his throat.

Ezequiel couldn’t move. He felt glued to the bottomless pit below.

“Who?” His voice wavered. He couldn’t take his eyes off that smile, stretched from ear to ear. Then he noticed something was hooked on either end of the man’s lips. They were fingers. Long thin white fingers with long sickly yellow nails.

The man wasn’t smiling on purpose. Nor was he raising his arms. Something was raising them for him.

Ezequiel managed to take a step back, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he began to notice not the man, but the things attached to him. The things surrounding him.

The thing _behind_ him.

“ _We found you_.” It spoke with the sound of a hundred voices, hissing, gasping.

A pale face emerged from the darkness, next to the man, and with it came dozens of pale hands gripping at his limbs, clawing into skin, tearing into muscle.

“No!” Ezequiel started but something pulled him back and in an instant, he was back at the club, the loud music crashing into his ears like waves.

“Ezequiel!” It was Jasmine, pulling him up from the ground. “Ezequiel we have to go! It’s here. It’s inside Rabbit.”

Ezequiel scrambled to his feet, grabbing Jasmine’s hand and allowing her to push them through the horde of people. They danced mindlessly, unaware of their own surroundings, lost in their own eternal high. The strobe lights made it hard to see where they were going. The dance floor felt like it stretched for miles. There were too many people.

Among the sea of bodies, Ezequiel thought he caught a glimpse of the pale face. The piercing yellow eyes. It appeared all around him, getting closer. It wore a long black hooded cloak that blended seamlessly in the shadows. But it moved too quickly.

Too quick for it to be just **one**.

He looked towards the stage and his heart leap to his throat when he remembered the pool.

Ophion.

“Jasmine!” He shouted but it was too loud for her to hear.

He couldn’t leave Ophion behind and there wasn’t time for him to think. He broke free of Jasmine’s grasp and began making his way towards the stage again. He could hear Jasmine yelling his name again but it was quickly drowned out by the music.

Ezequiel’s heart was pounding. He felt a dozen pairs of eyes on him. In the flashing of the lights, he saw wide smiles and gaping holes for eyes. He looked down, using all of his strength to push through the dance floor as fast as he could.

When he reached the stage, he sucked in a big breath of air, but he couldn’t stop. He located the stairs to the lower floor and ran.

It was a lot cooler downstairs, the air hitting his damp skin like ice. There was a long hall with doors on either side, rooms he assumed, though there wasn't enough time to look through them all. Fortunately, there was a large sign with a blue neon arrow that pointed to the direction of the pool. He made a quick turn at the end of the hall was and brought to a spacious lounge with a bar but it seemed to be closed. In fact, no one was down there. All the lights were off with the exception of the bright purple glow coming from the windows of the large double doors at the far end.

Ezequiel could spot the pool.

He burst through the doors, immediately getting hit with the strong smell of chlorine. The room was bathed in a purple hue with the water glowing a pale blue. Large tinted windows adorned the walls, too opaque to see anything on the other side. 

“About time.” He heard someone say.

Ophion was sitting at the edge of the pool, slacks rolled up with his feet dipped into the water. He was sipping on fruity cocktail.

A part of Ezequiel was relieved to see him. That was quickly washed over with panic. He ran up to him, tugging on his arm with no warning.

“We have to go, Ophion. Come on, get up! We have to **_go_**!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Ophion chuckled, more worried about spilling his drink than the frantic state of Ezequiel. “What’s the hurry? Where are we going?”

“Out of here! Now come on, get up, please!”

“Hey, relax.” Ophion set his drink on the tiled floor. He got up but made no attempt to put on his shoes. “What’s wrong?”

“I…can’t explain right now. Please, just trust me. We have to go.” Ezequiel was still breathing hard. He was holding onto Ophion’s hand now, squeezing tightly.

“Did you get in a fight?” Ophion quirked a brow, scanning over the younger man to see if he had any bruises or cuts.

“No, Ophie…please.”

“Then what is it?” Ophion laughed. It was then Ezequiel noticed the slur of his voice. But something else caught his attention. The buzzing of the neon signs went dead. In fact, everything, even the ripples of the water went silent.

 Silence.

“We have to go. It’s not safe here.”

Ophion narrowed his eyes, processing the words in his head. Then he leaned over to cupped Ezequiel’s face. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” He grinned.

Ezequiel felt something weighing him down as if the very spot he stood on was draining every ounce of energy from soles of his shoes. He felt lightheaded.

“Ophie…we have to…” Ezequiel’s gaze landed on the pool. Inside the crystal blue water was a black indistinguishable form. It didn’t float, it sank to the bottom of the floor and though it had no features, no permanent silhouette, Ezequiel knew that it was staring at him.

Waiting.

“Get away from the pool.” Ezequiel pleaded but once more his voice barely broke over a whisper.

Ophion laughed. “What? Why?”

Ezequiel backed away slowly, clinging onto Ophion’s hand. “Please, just trust me. Walk away. Slowly.”

“What are you going on about? Seriously, _what?_ ” Ophion pulled away, walking to the edge of the pool and peering down.

“Ophie, no! It’s in there!”

“Nothing’s in there!” Ophion shot back, arms stretched over the water. He pulled back when Ezequiel wasn’t giving in and breaking into a cheeky grin, announcing it was all a joke. “Alright, you know what?”

Ophion jumped into the water.

“Ophion!”

When he resurfaced, Ezequiel had run to the edge, staring down at him with wide eyes. His lips were trembling. Every part of him was trembling.

“Hey, relax.” Ophion pushed the wet locks of hair from his face. “It’s just water, see? There’s nothing here. Nothing to be afraid of.”

But Ezequiel had gone still. He wasn’t looking at Ophion anymore. He was staring behind him.

On the other side of the pool, staring back, was the pale face, hunched over on all fours, shrouded in its black cloak. That malevolent grin stretched wide to reveal large grotesque yellow teeth.

Ezequiel felt locked in place.

It crawled forward, _too fast_ , into the water. When Ezequiel looked back down at Ophion, it was there, right behind him. Its jaw unhinged revealing a dark red orifice with monstrous sets of teeth.

Ezequiel had no time to react, no time to move and reach out for Ophion before he was forcibly pulled under the water, the cloak engulfing his entire body, spinning violently until there was red gushing to the surface, tainting the entire pool.

 “Ophion!” Ezequiel screamed.

“Ezequiel!” He heard Jasmine’s voice, but he did nothing. Time felt like it was distorting. His body was frozen, everything blurring past him. He could feel Ophion’s blood sinking into his jeans where he was kneeling.  

He felt Jasmine’s hands wrap around his waist to pull him up. Somehow, he felt himself move. His legs stumbled into a jog, a sprint and then finally into a full run. He held Jasmine’s hand in a tight grip, the way he did with Ophion.

He shouldn’t have let go.

The buzzing of neon came back and that’s all he heard. Even through the loud music on the dance floor. Even until they were out of the club and far far away.

All he could smell was the chlorine.

All he could see was red.


End file.
